Feb 2, 2019 Original Poetry
Questioning
©February 2nd, 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
Oceans, skin-contained,
We travel on streets, subways,
Avoiding contact.
Negative spaces
Lie, like ever-yawning gulfs
Invasive and sly.
What would happen if
Eyes locked, or skin brushed by skin?
A flood? A tsunami?
Would we divert it?
Cut sluices, grooves, and canals,
And sail through to love?
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Feb 2, 2019 Original Poetry
Dark Hours
©February 2nd, 2019
By Vijaya Sundaram
The hours past midnight step in softly,
To the insistent hum of wires and weariness,
But sweetly, sweetly, like honey
Coalescing around the dipper.
I am reluctant to leave their company.
The train arrives. I get on.
We reach fingers across, to touch,
But they vanish like vapor, or smoke.
The train plunges into darkness, and the rattle
And hiss of the radiators
Follow me into the limbo of sleep.
Am I happy?
Unhappy?
Do these words mean anything?
I think. I am.
That is enough.
The darkness closes in, but
I still think. I still am.
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